The Deer Is The Point.

Joyce.

I am characterized by fantastic imagery and incongruous juxtapositions.
A constantly changing scene composed of numerous elements.
Bizarre; Fantastic; Grotesque.
In my threshold of consciousness,
when I come upon my visions of half-sleep,
voices yell, and voices whisper,
they speak my name again and again.

Their disturbance is not invited,
and their presence is feared.

They may be benevolent or malicious.
Of the malicious type?
I can feel the tension as they stare
with intent that force silence and cowardliness.

It's happened to me,
it'll happen to you.
info
But you but you  You write such pretty words But life’s no story book  Love’s an excuse to get hurt  And to hurt  “Do you like to hurt?”  “I do! I do!” “Then hurt me.”

But you but you
You write such pretty words
But life’s no story book
Love’s an excuse to get hurt
And to hurt
“Do you like to hurt?”
“I do! I do!”
“Then hurt me.”